I just spent 20 minutes arguing with mine over moving a futon. A Futon I have moved room to room multiple times ON MY OWN to accommodate him renting rooms out to his friends or coworkers. We own our house. The two of us not just him.

I am 4 foot 10 inches tall and weigh 97 pounds. I can lift and move that futon and it’s frame on my own. I’ve done it multiple times. How’s this grown ass man that weighs twice what I weigh and works as a machinist gonna tell me he’s not strong enough to move this futon on his own and can he get some help please? While insisting I also complete all the household tasks, do his laundry and cook his special meals.

My birthday was March 7th. The day the lockdown went into effect in my state. He was supposed to take me out for seafood. I didn’t even get a happy birthday. Just bitching about him being considered an essential worker and how it’s not fair that everyone else gets to be off work.

Sir you are 47 years old not some kid. You are a specialist in your field. I am your wife not some girl you’re letting stay here because she let’s you sex her. Ladies? I ran out of bar soap. Which is the only thing he will buy because he considers body wash and lotion frivolous and a thing only meant for strippers for whores. I ran out of soap and he won’t buy more unless I prove that I deserve it? I should mention I also work full time. Just like he does. On top of the wife expectations.

This is not what I signed up for. This is not the man that asked me to marry him. I’m done. I’m out.

He was, for over a decade, Prince Charming. Right up until he wasn’t. I’m convinced there’s no such thing as actual HVM. Their value is only as high as the number of mothers that helped raise them right.

Which these days is......

Well it’s slim pickings these days and the choices are bleak.